I gave you all
by Budi Hati
Summary: AU Afghanistan, despite hearing the rumours of Officer Evans' past, Nurse Jones is still prepared to save his life, in the process risking her career and her life for the sake of a criminal. Doubting that he will live to see tomorrow's morning light, she leaves him with something to return to her should he survive.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Glee or the characters are not mine at all

Trying to ignore his heartbeat weakening through his skin at every waking moment, Mercedes gently dabbed the warm, wet flannel on his torso. But the blood still ran. The wound still pierced through his flesh. The soldier was still dying. Despite the searing heat of the Afghan desert, she hurriedly worked away at cleaning his wound- all the time noticing how the cool of his body radiating onto her skin gradually became cold.

Xxx

The wind heavily breathed sand into the corners of Mercedes' eyes but she didn't flinch for a second. Instead, she grabbed the hand of the person closest to her, lowered her eyelids to the ground and counted the intervals between each consistent earth- shattering strike with the fingers on her other hand; the highest she had ever reached was two.

'One', she whispered softly to herself, sticking out her thumb. That thumb had been wedged in the car door at the age of four. She had screamed, her tiny thumb stuck in the tight gap as a scar began to cut deep. Dismissing it, her father idly leant across the doorframe talking about grown- up things with the housekeeper, making her giggle with all her might- but Mercedes didn't find the things daddy had said to her funny at all.

'Two', slowly placing her index finger out, she brushed against her callous fingertips. They had once been smooth, manicured, pretty things that girls with money had. That had all changed when her dad's business had failed. There was no need for her hands to be so when she needed to put bread on the table.

She hesitated at the third finger. The highest she had ever reached was two and the tension through the whirlwind of organised chaos was breaking her.

Then the one she had been dreading sounded at the foot of the barriers of the camp within close distance. Watching a dark silhouetted figure, probably on guard duty, be shoved at least fifty metres away from the impact like a dandelion seed blown away in the wind. Frozen from sheer shock, she prayed to God that he would live to see tomorrow morning. Looking back on it now, she realised that the waves of blurred heat had distorted her vision. There were in fact two figures… and maybe it was her own imagination or a double image in the back of her retina but she could have sworn that only one fell.

'Three', the voice next to her, continued to grip her hands tightly, taking her stretched out fingers from her right hand and folding them gently inside her palm- quickly purging the memories of what she did to her mother with that middle finger of hers, she had no time for regrets. She turned to see Officer Kurt Hummel smiling at her through rigid, cheek muscles. His mask only fooled her to a certain extent; she could still see the fear in his eyes as she watched the long- awaited orange flames of the bomb finally light in the reflected image in his iris.

They had grown close over the previous few weeks despite Hummel being an officer and Jones being a military nurse. With Kurt's fair share of minor battle injuries (God, that kid was accident-prone) and Mercedes being one of the few remaining nurses not driven away by the horrors and gore of war, they had formed an unlikely friendship.

She had once heard whimpers from his area of the tent. Wordlessly, she had pulled him into a hug, wiping his wet eyes with the sleeves of her uniformed pyjamas and he had told her everything: how his parents had kicked him out, how random strangers would judge him in the street, how his own friends had turned their backs on him leaving bruises of his own to remember each and every one of them by, how joining the army had been a last resort…and how he was gay.

The orange flames licked at the corner of her gaze and in response she clutched Kurt's hand even tighter, staring straight on as the fire began to leap over the far, sand- bag barriers. Pushed and shoved from the remaining officers at the base frantically grabbing any buckets or hoses they could and lashing the contents onto the fire, she filtered her ears through the screams of panic and the roaring hiss of the fire reaching its end.

'Medic! We need a medic!', several voices repeatedly coughed out faintly from the dying roar of the fire.

Her eyebrows shrivelled up towards the centre of her forehead trying to make out where they were coming from when she saw two figures emerge hauling across a stretcher. The dip weighing the rippled material down told her there was a body laid in it.

'I'm here. Bring him into the third tent', Mercedes directed before her brain had even processed it, unlocking hands with Kurt and heading to the foresaid place herself, weaving her way through the marching soldiers.

Flapping open the curtain of the tent for Officer Anderson and Puckerman to easily pass through, she let her eyes wander across her patient. He lay unconscious, his weak breaths gently brushing across the frays of his blond, sweated locks, as his eyes fluttered viciously from under his eyelids. Squinting at the army tag around his neck, she read 'Evans'. She had heard rumours about him- albeit mainly from Kurt on their now very few gossip sessions: homelessness, his brief years spent in prison …and what had happened to put him there. She had laughed it off before saying that Kurt was just trying to scare her shitless at one in the morning about some mysterious ghost of a man who may or may not have even been there …and hell it worked. She had woken up three times that night in a cold sweat. But looking at the man, now transferred onto an unchanged bed she saw nothing of the sort. Lastly, Mercedes set her eyes upon the damage. On one side of his torso, his uniform had been scoured open at the stomach and stained red, revealing burnt, withered skin on the outskirts of a fresh wound that flooded across his side like a lake- he was losing too much blood. She took a sharp intake of breath; she had never had to deal with an injury as severe as this before…unless the patient passed.

Puckerman cleared his throat, bringing her out of her reverie.

'Umm… could you bring me some fresh water and clean rags', Nurse Jones stated more than a request, still staring at Officer Evans in mid- thought.

Anderson and Puckerman left the almost- empty tent quickly leaving Nurse Jones and 'Evans' alone.

Sighing, she stroked his brow.

Xxx

'Nurse Jones, I…think it best if we leave it at that', Colonel Hudson stuttered blankly, dodging each of his words carefully through the silence of the tent and the occasional, eye- wincing explosions surrounding them. Glancing at the remaining lower officers sat on their beds, he didn't notice how Officer Hummel's nails cut through his own palms with every strike closer the bombs leered towards the camp, he didn't notice how Officer Lopez's sharp tongue finally quietened down from her rampage of cusses and slowed to a halt nor did he notice how Officer Puckerman closed his watery eyes and prayed under his breath. Instead he tore his flickering watch towards the dark- skinned nurse fruitlessly tending to the blonde man lying limply. Finn tried not to attract his eyes too long at flesh eaten wound but he couldn't look away- not after what he had done to him.

The army camp had always been a glass box; the younger, inexperienced officers could always see the war with their own eyes but it wasn't put into perspective until explosives shattered that safe, glass home into hundreds of blades edged across the floor, waiting for the first step to be taken. It was only a matter of time before someone tripped upon broken glass and fell into the pit of shards below.

And now, Hudson could feel the giant's footsteps quaking more and more ferociously before his feet. They were coming.

'Nurse Jones', he repeated sternly as he began to pack his few essentials into his rucksack, signalling for the others to do the same. There was no chance of retaliation; the remaining camp's officers had been sectioned off for a different station for the night and those that stayed, except for a few leading commanders and corporals, were in little numbers, young, inexperienced and nervous wrecks. They needed to get out of there as soon as possible if any of them were to survive and a stubborn nurse having faith in a half- dead man did not make the Colonel's task any easier.

Whilst strapping his helmet to his chin and lining up his officers in front of their bed posts to quickly run through their escape route, the end of the line stopped abruptly to a rather red- faced, flustered Mercedes attempting to balance the almost lifeless soldier's weight against her left shoulder. A torn sash of material acted as a large bandage across his torso tightly constricting the blood flow and he noticed one of her sleeves from her uniform had been ripped off.

Frowning, Colonel Hudson frustratedly sighed, 'I told you to leave him. He's as good as dead whether or not we take him'

'Not yet', Mercedes retorted suddenly standing up taller still grasping securely onto her patient, 'There's always hope' In retrospect, she would have laughed at the irony of her comment in such surroundings.

'Do you even know him? Do you know what he's done? You seriously can't be willing to risk your life for the sake of his?', Hudson narrowed his eyes, the silent tension in the tent intensifying, second by second the explosions leering towards them.

Mercedes didn't say a word, the last explosion before the last pitted deep against their ears as a piece of shrapnel landed at her feet but she still glared at him. Hudson glanced down at the shrapnel at her feet. It was time and with or without him, he wasn't going to risk any more lives.

'Puckerman, take the load for her'

Xxx

Scrambling through the tight confines of the interlinking tunnels, the only sound to be made was the occasional scuffle of light footsteps for all they knew the tunnel's walls could be just inches away from the enemy.

Walking sheepishly for nearly three hours, they were close to the next station. All the while, Puckerman had hauled Officer Evans across his right shoulder as Mercedes continually tended to his wounds behind them. The antiseptic and bandages would keep it clean and free from infections for now and would be changed at the next base but he was still unconscious. Mercedes was getting worried; she hadn't had time to check him up properly for any further injuries and his length of unconsciousness was concerning. There was a possibility of a coma and internal bleeding amongst many other prospects especially with the impact his body had taken. It hurt… knowing that yet another life would be wasted in the 'glory' known as war and that the ambiguous man who had haunted her nightmares for months may be gone for something as simple as a bomb. She had always been one to confront her fears head- on. In her dreams she had imagined him invincible but it seemed every superhero had its kryptonite. Now, she saw him for his true colours: his sweated, gold hair plastered against his forehead, gently carried on his chest by Puck's shoulder as his limbs dangling limply with every stride that Puck took- vulnerable. Like a new-born baby, his immunity to danger was low and he relied upon them, her to keep him going.

After tightening the make- shift bandage around his waist, she noticed the tips of his fringe bristling across his eyelids, disturbing Evan's peace… amongst the gun shots within tense breaks of silence. Hesitating, she brushed the frays of his hair from his face, her fingertips lightly grazing across his temples as she smiled at his content expression piercing across his wide lips. Unconsciously, his large hand grabbed hold of her own and pressed it softly against his stubbled cheek.

'We're here', Colonel Hudson announced, his tall and heavy build standing out of the narrow walls of the tunnel to reveal the third base, soldiers marching in all directions but instead light- heartedness maintained rather than the panic and terror that had struck at their previous base.

She almost chuckled as she watched a group of them attempting to play cards in a mini make- shift tent of their own when a gust of wind came up and swept the cards and tent mid- air just to land back on their heads again. They looked like bad imitations of gambling ghosts.

'Umm…Nurse Jones, your hand…', prompted Puck with a raised eyebrow who had now put Evans down and leant him on his other shoulder. Her hand was still cupping his cheek. She tugged it away from his grasp as quickly as if she had been burnt by his touch, stroking the affected palm with her other hand.

'I..I…', Mercedes began stuttering, trying not to make contact with his eyes.

'Come on', Puck chortled at her discomfort, 'let's get him to the medic's tent'

Xxx

After laying Officer Evans down on a spare bed in the empty medic tent, Puck patted Mercedes on the shoulder and told her, 'If you need any help, me and the rest of them will be over grabbing some dinner on the…', he paused for a moment, thinking about his bearings, '…about two tents from the right of this one'

She nodded, signalling that he could leave and get something to eat. Retreating to the entrance of the canvased tent, he hesitated a moment and spun back to face her on his heel, 'You really have faith in him, don't you? Despite everything he's done and the state that he's in you're still willing to help him- an already broken man?', Puckerman questioned, confused as to why anybody would put time and effort into fixing the pieces that were already in their hundreds, shattered and dispersed.

'We're all broken men here, Puckerman', Nurse Jones replied truthfully, sitting down and getting out her first aid kit on the bed.

Officer Puckerman shrugged in light agreement before almost whispering, 'Well if one thing's certain, he'll be dead by morning light… whether or not you help him', letting the rasp wind breath through the doorway as he left for dinner.

Sighing, she looked down at Officer Evan's wound, knowing that for once Puckerman was probably right.

Unravelling, the now dirty bandage off his torso, she grimaced. Although, to some miracle, it was healing it still looked like something from a horror movie. Mercedes took a clean cloth, dampened it and began cleaning his wound. He wouldn't stop shivering.

'You'll be fine', she whispered in reassurance yet she didn't know whether it was for him or herself. His violent shakes seemed to quake a little.

'You'll be fine', she repeated again, although not knowing how he could be 'fine' when he wasn't 'fine' in the first place from what she had heard. Maybe Puckerman was right; she couldn't restore something to its former glory if it had no former glory in the first place.

'You'll be fine', she finally said confidently, taking out her needle and thread to stitch his now clean wound back together. He winced sharply at the first prick of the pointed metal at his skin, his warm tears trickling down her forearms… but it needed to be done. Ignoring it, Nurse Jones began to sing softly in order to calm down Evans' and her own shaking hands.

'Rip the earth in two with your mind

Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires

I never meant you any harm

But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm

But close my eyes for a while

And force from the world a patient smile'

Tying the knot and cutting the thread from her needle, she looked up and noticed the smile playing upon his lips; his unconsciousness really was quite strange. All she could do now was wait until morning light.

She grazed the gold cross on the chain around her neck, as she usually did when deep in thought. They were allowed one piece of religious jewellery there and this was hers. Her mother had given it to her at the age of six, when her grandfather had died, to show her that he was with God and if she ever wanted to tell him that she loved him, she could pray.

Suddenly, Colonel Hudson came spluttering into the tent, out of breath. His eyes immediately went to Officer Evans' body on the bed as she watched his hands shake nervously. Quickly, he composed himself in front of her but his breathing was still uneven. She looked up from her patient, prompting Colonel Hudson on.

'Nurse Jones, there's been an accident with your father back home. He's in critical condition therefore you're permitted to leave. There's a jeep waiting to take you to the airport. You're booked for the first flight', Hudson spluttered.

Mercedes was tempted to say 'bastard', it was the truth if anything. She didn't give a shit about her father, it was because of him all this crap had happened but instead she refrained from using the word and stuttered, 'B..but…'

'No buts', Colonel Hudson, interrupted, 'under the circumstances you're not permitted to stay here either'

Forced with a choice made by somebody else, she huffed. Just when somebody had actually needed her, somebody higher up in the hierarchy began spurting out crap on moral high grounds.

'Give me two minutes', she said, beginning to gather what little of her belongings she had left in her rucksack. The rest of her stuff was left at the previous base but there was no going back there.

Hudson nodded and stepped outside the tent.

She looked down at Officer Evans.

'You'll be fine', Mercedes repeated certainly for once. Hesitantly, she unhooked the back of her gold necklace, the pendant of the cross dangling at the foot of her palm, 'but you need this more than I do', placing it in the palm of his right hand, folding his fingers over it so that he gripped it as tight as possible through his little strength, the gold chain weaving its way through the cracks between his fingers, 'and if you see morning light you can, one day, return it to me'

'Nurse Jones', Colonel Hudson called from outside.

Rapidly, she grabbed her rucksack and headed for the tent door. Glancing back, she could have sworn that his eyes flickered open for just a few seconds. She shook her head at her own stupidity and left. Puckerman was right; he'd be dead by tomorrow.

Xxx

Sam could feel the yellow of the morning sun beating down through the skin of his eyelids as he heard several mumbled murmurings close in his ear- shot. Slowly, he heaved them open to see the majority of his base's eyes staring at him in awe. He was about to get up and tell them all to 'fuck off', when a painful surge elapsed through his side, leaving himself to retreat flat on his back again. Gently, he propped himself up against the metal bars of the pane and stroked his fingers across the large, black stitch rippled against the reddened area of his bare torso. He remembered everything now: the oncoming enemy, the explosion… a figure pushing him into it. Her, he remembered her. He was sure this wasn't real but sure enough once opening his right fist, a delicate, golden chain hooked around his middle finger and a small cross dangled against his rough palm. It was beautiful.

'Jesus, it's a miracle', he stumbled out of his reverie and turned his eyes to see Officer Lopez, her mouth wide open, the others doing exactly the same. He would have laughed if it had not hurt. After hearing about his past, this was the first time any of them had actually talked to him informally. It was just a shame; it had to take him surviving death for them to make small talk.

'I guess I'm just lucky', Officer Evans grinned.

'Nope, just lucky you had Nurse Jones', Officer Hummel muttered, already missing his best friend as he turned and walked off to a bed to sit, now uninterested with Officer Evans' current situation. In his opinion, a man could change his clothes but others could still smell blood on his hands as he walked by.

'Nurse Jones?', Sam questioned, his hand gripping tighter around the cross in his palm.

'Yeah, if it weren't for her, you'd still be back at the previous base lying..', Puck made a slicing motion across his neck with a sharp sound, 'somewhere'

Officer Evans flinched, he had realised that there had been a close line for him but hearing it from someone else's lips made that line even closer.

Noticing Evans' discomfort, Officer Anderson stood up and nudged Puck in the arm painfully, 'What Puck is trying to say is that Mercedes saved your life. When the previous base was being bombed and you were out, she insisted that we bring you. She never stopped tending to you all the way through those tunnels and once we got here, she cleaned your wound and stitched you up. Never left your side. Never lost hope'

Sam tried to take this all in and process it in his mind. It only stuck when he remembered what she had said. He stared at the gold cross in his hand and smiled.

'Where is she now?', Sam asked.

'Back in Ohio with her fucked- up dad', Kurt, replied from the end of the room, still sour over the fact he never got to say goodbye.

'Ohio it is then', Sam whispered, hooking the delicate cross around his neck next to his heart. He had to find out why she would help someone like him, why she would risk her job and life helping someone like him and why she would willingly give something this precious to someone like him. He had to find her. Then, he would be fine.

Xxx

**I know absolutely nothing on modern war- fare or Afghanistan so this is bound to have many mistakes so please excuse my complete lack of knowledge in this field. Also the song is 'I gave you all' by Mumford and Sons and is one of the most depressing yet beautiful songs ever so type it up on Youtube sometime. Lastly, this is my first samcedes fic (probably gonna be multichapter) ever so I hope you enjoyed this chapter enough to urge you to press the big, shiny review button below Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly before I start this second chapter off, I'd like to thank you beautiful peeps for reviewing, so thanks QTFics, Jadziwine, rKrispyt, walkingwithdinosaurs, casteroid, Gerriv, Danny, Moonlight015 (P.S. I think she was supposed to be counting the seconds between each bomb strike with her fingers, sorry if that was a bit confuzzling), and Toni Michelle. You guys are awesome, I wasn't even expecting to get any to my first fanfic so thanks for the support :) Secondly, sorry this took so long, things have been hectic! Also to be honest, this chapter and probably the next few will be setting the scene so might be a little *yawns* boring since I'm trying to break the habit of rushing things but other than that, hope you don't switch off halfway through and enjoy!**

xxx

Sweeping his long, blonde wind- swept fringe from his eyes, Sam breathed a sigh of relief after an uncomfortable nine hour flight and stared at the large, plastic sign above his head. 'Lima Allen County Airport', he mouthed to himself, trying to ignore the rush of the surrounding people who scattered like working ants. He was here.

Attempting to salvage a crumpled piece of note paper out of his inside, jacket pocket too quickly, he grimaced and gripped at the tight bandage around his side.

The cut was still painful but it was healing and had its benefits: due to his injuries, he was sent home… well what would be his new home. It was time for a fresh start somewhere he wouldn't be recognised, judged or punished for the things he called 'mistakes' he had made in the past- but they were more than that.

Successfully this time, he pulled the note paper from his pocket. It was creased in several directions, a few grains of sand held in each valley of folds and the writing, a quick scribble that was now blurred and faded.

It would have played havoc on his dyslexia if he hadn't memorised it but it calmed his nerves that he had kept that little piece of information safe. It was one of the few things he had from his time with the army that had actually meant something to him.

The tag he had once worn around his neck was now seen as more of a fashion accessory than a sign of service to your country so he couldn't help but feel that the armed forces had been commercialised and taken over by the media.

The troops didn't know what they were fighting against anymore other than 'terror', whatever George Bush was rambling on about, Sam had no idea. Their main function was to be off the dole and feed their families back home. The bottom line, fighting on the frontline wasn't anybody's first career choice.

Shoved out of his reverie by a rushing businessman, he yanked the straps of his heavy, 70 litre rucksack to his shoulders and made his way through the large,glass revolving doors,suddenly feeling the cool breeze envelope his skin.

He smiled, relieved, that for once, the goosebumps on his bare arms weren't caused by fear.

As a child, he had imagined his grown-up self to be a fearless superhero, fighting against villains in Tennessee all for the sake of goodwill and keeping the citizens from harm- his childish fantasies would be all they would be now.

Jumping inside a taxi, he handed the driver the note causing him to lower his glasses down the bridge of his nose and squint at the scribbled writing. Officer Hummel's scribbled writing to be exact, although resistant, he did get some information, well a lack of out of Kurt: her name was Mercedes Jones, she lived in Lima, Ohio, her dad was a twat (her words apparently), she was a nurse and she could give Aretha Franklin a run for her money...but only her name was on the paper. That was all he needed.

'Mercedes Jones?', he read to himself, confused as to why the blonde had given him supposedly the name of a person rather than a place. 'I don't know any Mercedes Jones unless you're looking for a car dealer, I know Stan has some if...'

'No she's a person', Sam interrupted, adjusting his black beret and smoothing down his itchy uniform. He was going to take it off as soon as he got the chance.

The driver glanced at him through his rear- view mirror and raised an eyebrow, 'Oh it's a she, huh?'

Sam cleared his throat, ignoring the driver's last comment and not bothering to correct him, 'How many hospitals are there in Lima? She's a nurse'

'About five', the driver replied, this seemed a funny relationship he had if he didn't even know her work place.

'Come on then!', Sam directed light- heartedly giving the older man a tap on the shoulder.

'What?', the bearded driver replied, again confused by the Southern soldier and for the first time taking his eyes from the rear- view mirror to look him directly in the face. The sandy- haired man was young, smart but he made sure his long fringe covered his eyes as he sat expectantly, his heavy, brown rucksack at his side.

'To the first hospital',Sam replied simply, shrugging.

'What you wanna go to ALL of them today just to see if she's there!', the driver exclaimed, slightly peeved off- he had thought today would have been quiet, a nap in his cab would have been nice.

Acting amused at first by the driver's outburst, he felt the blood rising in him at his questioning- a little more than a bad habit that he couldn't control. Clenching his jaw, he leaned forward forcing the driver to roughly hit the dashboard, he on the other hand was just thankful his seat served as a barrier between himself and the turned customer behind him.

Noting that he had let his relit temper get the better of himself, Sam closed his eyes, sighed and internally cursed himself upon hearing the driver's uneven breaths. He despised himself everytime he realised what he had done- the aftershock. He slumped back against his seat and strapped his rucksack to his back all the while avoiding the driver. Opening the taxi door, he turned an eye towards the bearded man, he was shaking.

'Sorry I...I'll take the bus', Sam stuttered closing the door behind him. Rubbing his eyes, he huffed heavily instantly regretting his previous actions.

'So much for a fresh start Sam!', he chuckled humourlessly to himself as he hopped on the bus. At least this way, under many gazes, he could control himself from scaring somebody shitless. Finding a seat, his fingers instantly went to the small piece of cold metal, nestled on a chain around his neck.

xxx

'Waitress, waitress', insistently called some high school jock, surrounded by fellow Letterman jackets and cheerleaders living it up in 'Breadsticks' as if they owned the place.

Maybe if she turned her back on them and quickly make an escape to the kitchens, Mercedes could just pretend that she was tone-deaf and couldn't hear the loud bellows referring to herself, the only waiter present in the dining area.

Then the clicking of fingers ensued.

Mercedes sighed sharply through gritted teeth and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Turning around with a faint stretching of the mouth some would recognise as a smile, she headed towards their table, repeatedly muttering under her breath, 'If this job wasn't one step away from unemployment...' through her teeth that nibbled on the inside of her cheek- a constant reminder that it was this or nothing.

'Yes sir, would you like me to get you the bill?', Mercedes said monotonously, eyeing the dirty plates and remnants of tomato sauce.

The brown haired boy of probably sixteen and presumably the 'leader' of the pack didn't even avert his eyes in her direction, but instead flicked his long bangs out of his eyes, which Mercedes had learnt through experience meant 'Yes', in the language of teen prats. This one, however, seemed to be king of them, she noticed, although the remaining of the group did live up to their name.

Her smile was now making her cheeks ache.

She glanced down at her notepad to reference the price of the meals, tapping her biro across it to draw attention away from her relaxing her cheek muscles for a moment.

The group had become suspiciously quiet, not that Mercedes was moaning, she was thankful for the moment of peace as she stroked her temples trying to get rid of a recurring migraine.

'That would be $34.99 for all of you', Mercedes concluded expectantly, looking up from her notepad to find their seats empty. Her head instantly darted towards the exit of the restaurant where she spotted their retreating figures speed from a silent tiptoe to a frantic sprint upon noticing they had been caught.

'Urgh, I can't deal with a dine and dash right now', she internally groaned to herself, at least not during her first week in which she was still working on a trial period.

'Wait! Stop! You haven't paid yet', Mercedes panted at the top of her lungs, running as fast as her legs could carry her through the restaurant despite knowing she'd never be able to catch up with them.

Slamming open the glass doors, she repeated what she had previously said through heavy breaths, feeling the cool air of the July night as faint flickers of rain spat on the back of her neck.

'Stop! Stop!', she screamed, reaching the far end of the grey, concrete car- park, her long curls now plastered to her face through the swelling rain.

Her fingernails dug tightly into her kneecaps in order to catch her breath. They'd leave scars later. She stared up through her splintering heartbeat to catch just a flash of their red Letterman jackets and cheerleading uniforms rippling through street alleyways in the distance.

She sighed. Mercedes could still hear them laughing at her.

'Stop', she whispered through the violent noise of the street's traffic, upon finally catching her breath. Shutting her eyes, she traced her fingertips like silk across her burning temples. She just wanted it to stop.

'That's coming out of your paycheck, Aretha!'

Mercedes cringed, dreading to let her eyes flicker open if only for a second. That was her manager's voice. She hesitantly turned around to see Ms. Sylvester's scowl through those dark, bottomless pits others called eyes glaring through the glass door. Mercedes was sure that if it wasn't for the glass separating herself from Sue's gaze, she'd be a pile of ash on the floor right now.

Sue Sylvester was... a determined woman to say the least which probably accounted for her only owning exactling the same olympic fitting tracksuits. Mercedes could just make out Ms. Sylvester mouthing something to herself before jogging off to discuss promotional offers with a lifesize cardboard cut out of herself. She could only guess Ms. Sylvester had said 'What horror'

Mercedes allowed her polite smile to fade.

'Shit'

xxx

'So there's no Nurse Jones here? Mercedes Jones?', Sam tried desperately, removing his beret so he could let the wings of skin between each finger to comb through his hair frustratedly.

This was the last hospital out of five that he had checked and not one so far had her name on their records. That, a day's worth of travelling around Lima on stuffy, public transport, and the dim, ochre streetlights piercing through the blackness outside told him today had been a wasted journey. Finding a clock on the far, peach coloured wall, through the patients and support groups in the waiting area, he turned a quick eye towards the time before returning it to the secretary should she notice the bags under his eyes and his continuous yawns he often tried to disguise as awkward sneezes. It was just past eleven.

He didn't think it would be this difficult. Okay, Lima wasn't the smallest of places but referencing all the hospitals there for a nurse seemed the simplest strategy. He huffed sharply to himself; Mercedes Jones didn't like simple. It was almost as if this ominous Miss Mercedes Jones didn't want to be found.

The middle- aged secretary peered at him from over the top of her glasses, which hung from a string of beads around her neck, with raised eyebrows. This was the seventh time he had asked her...within the past five minutes.

'For the last time Mr Evans...', the secretary began, massaging the dents the rests of her glasses had made on the bridge of her nose.

'Sam', he interrupted her with a weary smile.

She blinked, tired yet somewhat amused by his persistence,'Sam...', she corrected herself,'...for the last time, there's no Nurse Jones, no Mercedes Jones...'

Sam opened his mouth to interrupt again with another suggestion but she cut him short, '...and there's no Miss or Mrs M Jones working here either'

He shut his gaping mouth abruptly upon being caught out.

The secretary blew out an exhausted breath, letting her glasses dangle limply on the cord around her neck.

Thoughtfully, she stared curiously at Sam's disappointed figure.

It seemed that every time she had said 'no', his right hand would unconsciously land underneath the collar of his uniform.

Throughout the near hour, he had been persistently waiting there, she would sometimes catch a glimpse of what was absently mindedly trapping his attention. The gold relfected a white light stunningly into the corner of her eye from time to time as he had previously waited in line.

'Look...', she began, peering behind him towards the rapidly forming queue,'...if you want to find this...'

'Mercedes, Mercedes Jones', Sam offered, looking up with a hopeful half grin.

'...if you want to find this Mercedes Jones...', she repeated, trying to ignore the ticking at the back of her head from his constant interruptions, '...I'd suggest that you take your time and start here...', the secretary's speech drifted into mumbles as she lowered her head to scribble something down on the closest available sticky note at hand before sliding it under the glass sheath separating her office from the waiting room.

Sam's green eyes scrolled over the letters on the neon coloured scrap of paper and regretably released an audible groan causing the secretary to arch an eyebrow. This was turning more and more into a wild goose-chase.

'Jones' Business Enterprise', it read.

Along with the rest of America, Sam had heard about the firm; founded by a rags to riches entrepreneur Lucas Jones in Lima about twenty years ago, the business that offered grants for adequate designs quickly made large profits and was becoming one of the fastest growing success stories in America. From their early days of making cheap toys for bargain stores to now accepting up and coming fashion designers for the stars, Lucas Jones had gone from being kicked out onto the streets to a multi- millionaire. Yet, despite the company's profits spanning a marginal triumph, the headquarters still resided in Lima, the place where it all began.

He was grateful for her help and this contact may have led to her eventually but it was a long- shot and already, on just his first day he felt defeated.

'Seriously? You honestly think she'd be there?', Sam choked out with a skeptical brow, a mocking tone in his voice he hadn't intended to be there.

The secretary glared from over the rim of her glasses and released the spring on her clicking pen.

'Look kid, it's all I got!', she snapped, her patience crashing to the floor in bucket- loads.

Taking a deep breath, more calmly but with a sharp edge, she ushered, 'You said her surname is Jones, and I know it's a common name and probably unlikely...but just take a chance and if it doesn't sway that way you can always secure a job there. They take loads of people on but until then get off my case alright!'

Sam stood there dumbstruck.

'Sorry...I meant thanks', Sam stuttered his apology out.

Paying no attention to his response, or lack thereof, the secretary continued,'Until then, find a place to stay for at least the night because honestly, you look shattered...', staring intently at the dark, bagged skin under his eyelids '...and trust me that girl ain't going nowhere', she said upon seeing his reluctance.

Hesitantly, he nodded knowing that he would have to give into sleep sometime; he would rather it be in a warm and cosy bed rather than the dark street corners of Lima, a place he barely knew.

'Thank you', he uttered sincerely, looking down to where his fingers had unknowingly creased the corners of the sticky note. Strapping his rucksack to his back, his beret in his pocket and the sticky note firmly in his hand, he left the, now, elongated line of pissed off people with minor injuries.

Relishing the whip of the cool, night air against his dry, drooping eyes upon exiting the hospital, Sam sighed. Glancing at the bus timetables, he found that no buses came at this time of night, neither did he want to risk taking a cab again after today's earlier fiasco but he remembered seeing a hotel nearby on his way to the hospital on the bus earlier that day. Judging by the amount of time it took him on public transport he decided it would be a half hour walk approximately.

The road was a small, country lane, no sidewalk but yellow, wheat fields on either side. In the pitch black darkness with only the stars to keep him company, he regretted having horror movie marathons on a regular basis.

It would keep him from falling asleep for at least the next half of an hour. He wanted to delay rest for as long as possible. Not that he was going it to admit to that secretary, but the bags under his eyes that she had been referring to hadn't been there for just one night. They had kept him awake ever since it had happened.

As if pins and needles were in turn pricking at his eyes, they glazed over like a layer of plastic bag had suffocated them. Sam's eyes gripped shut. The blackness at the back of his eyelid quickly evolved into a fiery haze. Orange filled every inner fold, crease and nook of his mind until the tall, charcoalled silhouette crept in from behind. The hand that had once held him close clawed its fingers deeply into his own knuckles. Then it pushed.

Gasping heavily, instantly, he reached for his side as if in turn each stitch was being picked at forcing him to keel over. Slowly prying his fingers away from the wound, he noticed the clotted blood on his knuckles, now red scabs. If there was one positive coming from these reoccuring scares it was the gradual memories that returned more and more vividly.

Regaining control, he cursed himself for letting his eyes drift.

'Are you alright?', spoke a warming, feminine voice behind him. He stared at the floor from his doubled over position to see his shadow laced at his feet on the concrete road below, standing weakly through the shine of the bright, piercing headlights behind him.

Attempting to keep his posture straight again whilst masking a grimace through the surge of pain that elapsed through his side, he turned his head towards the voice and the bellows of a car engine.

The blonde woman's arm leant across the wound down window of her Mini; her hazel eyes narrowing at his silence, cautiously searching his face for any reason why she shouldn't be talking to a strange man, at night, in the middle of nowhere. Certain, that he wasn't going to take out a gun and bury her body in the crop fields that surrounded her, she repeated her question.

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I'm just tired', Sam lied.

By her unamused expression, Sam could tell she didn't buy it but thought better of it not to say so.

'You're not from around here, are you?', she stated more than questioned noting his slight tinge of down south.

He shook his head, twisting his abnormally large lips to his left cheek awkwardly.

Scrunching up her eyebrows at his silence, she offered, 'Need a lift to the next hotel... I'm assuming that's where you're heading?', nodding her head towards the army uniform he wore and the giant rucksack he was carrying as if he had just got off a plane.

Sam continued walking, trying to keep his head down, 'I don't want to inconvenience you', he muttered politely although he could still hear the soft hum of the car as she slowly followed him in her car.

The driver resisted the urge to roll her eyes, she hated the need for people to used uncalled for modesty.

'It wouldn't at all, I co- own the place, just heading off to my shift now', she explained, 'so do you wanna come in here...', she offered patting the seat next to her, '...it'll take five minutes or would you rather walk for another quarter of an hour, in the dark, up that massive hill further on with that strain in your side you call 'being tired'?', the woman questioned, her arms crossed over her chest smugly.

After a brief hesitation, Sam sighed gratefully and hopped in the car.

The Mini sped off, bumping across the potholes of the small, country lane.

They sat in silence. Occasionally, the woman would flicker her hazel eyes at his reflection in the rear view mirror. He wouldn't stop fiddling with something under the collar of his uniform. She found it distracting to say the least.

'So who do I have to thank for 'rescuing' me?', Sam joked, his half- smile tearing through his lips as his own eyes glanced towards the rear view mirror meeting her own for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

Instantaneously in a panicked response, the driver's eyes lay firmly on the road again, his contact catching her out. Instead she let her eyes bore into the bright, yellow light of her headlamps shining onto the weathered road below.

'Quinn. My name's Quinn', she replied, not daring to look into the rear- view mirror again.

xxx

Full of asperin and in a rush, to find a pillow to lay her aching head onto, Mercedes almost ran straight past Quinn and a new guest checking in at the hotel.

Mercedes had been staying at the hotel for a little over a month now. It was cheap and cosy and all she needed for now; she could just only afford to pay the hotel fee anyway, ontop of that was groceries, her car, insurance and she certainly didn't need a mortgage or rent to add to that. Despite her qualifications, every local hospital had turned down her application, turning their noses up at her 'military nurse' background, comments about not being able to fit into an actual hospital environment, not being able to cope with the the real world and some other bull shit that wanted to make her go up there and let them feel her fist. Until she could find a proper full- time job that could support her rather than at 'Breadsticks' which Ms Sylvester had taken the liberty of giving her a cheque with zero dollars written on it due to the dine and dash fiasco, she would be staying here with her old high school friend, Quinn.

'Hey Aretha!', Quinn called out upon spotting her. She stood behind the desk checking in a new guest, his back turned and his hair a mop of blonde was all Mercedes could tell.

Mercedes continued walking along the hall, flapping a dreary hand in Quinn's direction 'I have so many steroids running through my body right now I may turn into the Incredible Hulk if you piss me off'

Mercedes noticed at that, the new guest pulled a huge, toothy grin tilted to the left of his face, probably weighed down by the weight of his humungous lips she mused.

Quinn chuckled quietly at her remark and let the smile stick to her lips for a few seconds, 'Fine but in the morning, it's a 7am wake up call okay diva?'

'Meh', Mercedes turned around with a shrug but stopped short in her tracks upon seeing the new guest's face more clearly. Her brow frowned at his sharp jawline, blond hair and army uniform as she could feel the muscles in her lower calves tense through the frustrating prescense of familiarity that man played yet she couldn't place his name or where or when she could remeber him.

Mercedes caught herself staring when a concerned Quinn began calling her name.

'Sorry... must be the aspirin', Mercedes studiously thought aloud, uncertain if the drugs were really playing with her mind before tapping her head several times and walking off to her room. Spinning around on her heels, she found he was still there looking straight at her.

Closing her room door behind her, she took out the aspirin packet from her pocket, gaped at it incredulously and threw it in the waste paper basket before throwing herself onto her bed. She wasn't going to allow any more hallucinations of strangely familiar men come now except for in her dreams.

xxx

'Who was that?', Sam asked, his head still turned in the direction of Mercedes room as Quinn typed his records furiously onto her computer.

Quinn looked up from her computer after clicking the mouse and chirped, 'Oh that's Aretha', yet she still looked downwards through her smooth, blond locks.

Sam narrowed his eyes, finally ripping his eyes away from where 'Aretha' had disappeared to and commented cooly, 'Really? She doesn't look like an Aretha to me, more like a... well I don't know...'

'Here are your keys, number twenty- one, second floor, fourth room on the left', Quinn interrupted firmly dangling the keys in front of his face. That would probably keep him off track from whatever he was going to say next.

'Thanks', Sam said, confused as to what would make her sharp tongue switch so rapidly.

Once Sam had left through the doors leading to the elevators, Quinn let out a deep breath she didn't know she was keeping in.

Nobody could know.

xxx

**Gaaah! My eyes are burning, it's like 2am, anyways hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry in advance if the next chapter is mega late and would love it if you could alert, favourite and reviews always warm my heart :)**


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